Letters for personal catharsis

Kid

I know some people have the mistaken idea that living without a full time job must be a wonderful thing; people like me never seem to lack for the time needed to write a book or finish tinkering with some project. Tell that to me yesterday, when I was climbing the walls of this – what, maybe 500 sq ft in total – apartment. There’s only so much writing and tinkering on projects you can do. After that, it’s just killing time. And killing time is such a fucking crime. I commit time-ocide every damned day.

I am unshocked and unsurprised to find rain falling against the window this morning. Today was/is scheduled to be the day to see the new Star Wars. So – out and about and let’s all get wet, shall we? I’ll also be unshocked and unsurprised to find about 100 kids in the cinema at 1 in the afternoon. It’s the holidays and it’s Star Wars. But my bro really wants to go. He’s almost as excited as he was way back when we were kids. So, you know. May the force shield us from the noise and all that.

Been waking up blank. Like a coloring sheet that needs filling in. The outlines are there, just no hues. And the day colors me in, happy or angry or sad, depending on what I’m exposed to. Now is when my tight assed control over everything in the house pays off. NO phone calls – always let them go to voice mail. NO live broadcast tv – only watch recorded material so I can fast forward through all the body shaming ads. NO sad films or upsetting news – dramas are fine, they can even be uplifting, but I will not sit through anything that raises one tear or makes me even the slightest bit angry. Not too bad so far. It’s prevented me from falling any further, getting any more depressed. Fucking annoying, tho. Monitoring every goddamn thing in my life takes time and concentration. Oh, and I let one slip – one damned depressing thing get through – and it can puncture my balloon so fast it’s like watching my smile melt off my face. One, two, gone.

Cannot help but think about my appointment coming up. One week from today. My smoking has been given free reign, to do as it will for as long as my lungs can keep up right now. In seven days I’ll have to confront that. I’ll be asked to slow down again, or stop. I’ll become accountable to someone for my smoking. I just. don’t. know. They’d better offer SOMETHING to help me down off this. And not valium. Valium sends me into depression in three fucking days. Had it for a stress; developed a tic in my left eye when I was in Ireland. No. Valium induced depression sucks a witch’s tit. It reminds me of the time in my life when I was taking melatonin to help me sleep. It helped me sleep, alright. Sent me into such a deep sleep I couldn’t wake up from my nightmares. Trapped in those goddamn scenarios every single night with no ability to snap out of it. Longest damn nights of my life.

Getting used to this yo-yo. Notice the pattern yet? I’ve got a long slide – long up time (thank you, October, you’re always sweet to me) and then a long slow slide down. Jagged days; sometimes up, sometimes down, sometimes blank. But always on that slow decline. This will either continue or bottom out (goddess help me!) and then come spring I’ll have another up time. Back down for summer. On and on. Fast flips in mood used to be my modus operandi. All the way through my early 40s I’d flip on a dime, often back and forth in one day. Now it’s slow, long cycles. Little ups and downs day to day, but always this bigger wheel you can see turning. I can feel much more philosophical about these long patterns than I can my fast turn-arounds. It’s just like heading into winter: you know it’s coming, you can see the change starting to occur, so you stock up and get ready as best you can. Winter is always winter; it’s always cold, and since the beginning of time man has wondered each snow season whether spring will really come again. It does. I just gotta make it through.

Right now, the last thing I want to do is be responsible. For anything, including my own behavior. Must be the kid in me responding to all the holiday lights. I just want to go and DO and not THINK. Be reckless. Spend too much money. Eat far too much. Smoke like a chimney. Drink. So far, I’ve only indulged in smoking like a chimney, but that’s par for the course for me. I don’t like to carry more than ten euro on me right now. If I see something SO great I just GOTTA have it, I can always go back and get it later after I ask for more cash. But knowing I only have ten euro on me for whatever keeps me in line. Stops me from buying. Probably a good idea if I put off memorizing the PIN to my new bank account until after the holidays. Don’t need to get it into my head to ‘try out’ my new card. *sigh* And all this denying myself and holding myself back is fucking difficult AND a real downer. Like I’m raining on my own parade.

I need to reinstate my IOME system and use something as a reward other than food. Luxury baths aren’t quite the reward they once were, now that I swim on a regular basis. So…what else? I need something special, something I wouldn’t do for myself anyway, like eventually getting my hair done.

Perhaps my scheduled time out there today is fortuitous. I should keep my eyes peeled for a treat. Something I can offer myself for being good. I’m back down to bribing myself. Oh, well. That’s what Santa’s all about: a bribe to get kids to be good for at least part of the year. And I am SUCH a kid.

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2 thoughts on “Kid”

Hah! I agree! People also think that because you don’t work you have all the time in the world for them. I had a friend who was constantly asking for “favors” to the point I said “well I’ve become your errand person so how much is the pay rate?” Seriously.

Personally I have so much going on that I feel 24 hours aren’t enough in a day, and I don’t work!

Currently a final year English student at the University of Cambridge. Producing Intern for Fuel Theatre July-October 2016. Aspiring Arts Administrator/Theatre Producer, blogging about my projects (mostly).

#ActuallyAutistic - An Aspie obsessed with writing. This site is intend to inspire through sharing stories & experiences. The opinions of the writers are their own. I am just an Autistic woman - NOT a medical professional.